IS*9. 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
 
 Chap. Coprright Xo. 
 
 :^(^ 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
JAN 14 1899 
 
BENEATH BLUE 
 SKIES and GRAY 
 
COPYRIGHTED 1898, by 
 ROBERT HOWARD RUSSELL 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
 i WO COi^tES 
 
 JAK 141899 
 
 STf. a. Bassette Co. 
 
 Winchester Pari 
 Springfield . Mass. 
 
 
BENEATH 
 BLUE SKIES 
 AND GRAY 
 
 POEMS BY 
 Ingram Crockett 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 R. H. RUSSELL 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 ^%^r 
 

 2:U59 
 
To My Wife and 
 To My Mother's Memory 
 
Contents 
 
 In Haunts of Wildrose 
 
 The Oak Wood 
 
 The Garden of Night 
 
 In the Night 
 
 The Winter Oaks . 
 
 The Vision 
 
 Black-Eyed Susans 
 
 On Green River . 
 
 Beauty 
 
 A Walk at Sunset 
 
 Here 
 
 A Cloister . 
 
 Autumn Days 
 
 A Voice 
 
 Redwing 
 
 The Shining Hosts 
 
 The Quiet Chambers 
 
 A Longing 
 
 A Call . 
 
 The Dav is Done 
 
 The Passing of Day 
 
 Eventide .... 
 
 Late Afternoon in November 
 
 A Clearing .... 
 
 The Cross 
 
 Frost-time 
 
 The First Blackbird 
 
 Ceres 
 
 A Cloud 
 
 Come . ... 
 
 Whate'er Befalls Me 
 
 Cow Bells .... 
 
 At the Bend of the Creek 
 
 The Antilles of the Sky 
 
 Shadow . 
 
 The Clover Blossom . 
 
 A Prophecv 
 
 The Vireo ' . 
 
 The Dusk is Deepening 
 
 PAGE 
 
 9 
 
 lO 
 
itontcnts 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Sunset 54 
 
 A Presence 55 
 
 The Cedars 57 
 
 Yule-Tide 58 
 
 An April Song 62 
 
 October 63 
 
 My Heart With Longing 64 
 
 A Mood 66 
 
 The Hills 67 
 
 The Minstrel 68 
 
 Foretaste ........ 69 
 
 TheKilldee 70 
 
 Morning 71 
 
 Dawn 72 
 
 Longing 73 
 
 A Knight 74 
 
 Invitation 75 
 
 A Spring Road 77 
 
 Audubon 78 
 
 Serving Brothers 80 
 
 Winter Davs 81 
 
 The Retreat 82 
 
 Afterward 83 
 
 A Meeting 86 
 
 September Days 87 
 
 A Morning Song 88 
 
 The Inca's Daughter 89 
 
 At Washington's Grave 94 
 
 Sunset on the River 95 
 
 The Unattainable 96 
 
 The Deserted House 97 
 
 A Deed 98 
 
 A Summer Night 99 
 
 Good Brother Trees 100 
 
 Affinity loi 
 
 The Wind and the Leaves 102 
 
 A Little Lake 104 
 
 The Grave in the Forest 106 
 
 In the Afterglow 108 
 
Beneatl) Mint pities antr ©rag 
 
 CI)E When God pronounced his work all good 
 ©all He must have thought of the old oak wood, 
 Wootl Of the old oak wood on an autumn day 
 With the sunshine goldening all that way 
 And the glistening leaves of red and brown 
 Qiiietly, dreamily drifting down. 
 
 He must have thought of the redbird there 
 With wings a-flash thro' the amber air, 
 Of the bowed brown weeds that humbly wait 
 For the touch of the frost that soon or late 
 Will bring them death : of the asters white 
 In starry clumps on the hillside bright. 
 
 And the bending plumes of the golden-rod 
 All must have been in the thought of God 
 And the woodpecker's music, clear and strong, 
 Tapped on a dead limb all day long. 
 And the silken gossamers lightly spun 
 Floss of gold from the loom o' the sun. 
 
 And he must have heard the meadow-lark sing 
 Far off there in the world's first Spring, 
 The meadow-lark's song o'er the hilltop rise 
 To the dreamer standing with misty eyes 
 At the edge of the wood, and listening lone 
 To the flutes of memory faintly blown. 
 
2ri)e The west is glowing crimson 'neath the feet 
 (SarUcn Of her the beautiful, the passing Day, 
 
 of And, softly bright, the new moon lights the way 
 JBijIjt Into Night's garden that is dewy sweet 
 
 With blossoming stars : where bright browed visions meet 
 
 And in love's converse thro' the quiet stray 
 
 To where the fountains of the wind at play 
 
 Make pleasant music. Time, with slower beat 
 
 Of thy strong wings pass o'er this garden fair ! 
 
 Nay, rest thee here, and haply lost in dreams 
 
 Thou wilt forget some wildrose blooming long 
 
 To gladden earth, some young heart void of care. 
 
 Hark ! Can'st thou hasten when 'neath silvery beams 
 
 Thou hearest the rapture of the thrushes' song? 
 
aScneatTj Blue ^feics mXs ®frag 
 
 ^n t^t From out the cold vast of the night 
 jQiffi)t I heard it crying, 
 
 And thro' bare trees the moon stole white 
 A ghostly thing ! 
 
 I asked the wind, the veiled stars, 
 
 The clouds, on flying, 
 " What voice is this whose wailing mars 
 
 Sleep's boui-geoning ? " 
 
 And my heart replied : " 'Tis a memory. 
 
 In fear undying, 
 That vainly from itself would flee — 
 
 A cursed thing ! " 
 
^ Mook ot ilocms 
 
 Cfje Gray bards of Winter standing calm and still 
 Winter Upon the hillside, tell me all your dreams 
 (B^kS For I am weary and the world meseems, 
 For all its gospel, is than you more chill. 
 I come in weakness, lift me up until 
 I breathe your vigorous air lit with faint gleams 
 Of frosty sunshine. See the far-off streams 
 And to your wind-songs feel my pulses thrill. 
 Ah, blessed bards that truest comrades all 
 Know the good ministry of stars and sun, 
 In waiting restful while the world doth toil ! 
 Unto your loving strength my soul doth call. 
 O make me strong that 1 may be as one 
 With peace communing 'midst the w^orld's turmoil. 
 
 »3 
 
JScttcatfj aSluc pities mXs ©rag 
 
 STfje The moon, a slender silver horn, 
 ^Stfiion Gleams on the rosy-baldricked morn, 
 And, milky white, the mists below 
 From frosty fields are rising slow, 
 And with a rapture as of Spring 
 The thrushes in the treetops sing. 
 
 The waiting world is very still 
 Before that vision on the hill, 
 That vision that is never old, 
 Of Morning with her bow of gold. 
 And in a golden leash the Sun 
 Leaping with eagerness to run. 
 
 Oh, hark ! the silver horn is blown, 
 Its witchery is round me thrown ; 
 I saw it touch the Morning's lips 
 Held in her rosy finger-tips, 
 The world is very still to hear 
 That fairy music faint and clear. 
 
^ ^ook of ^loems 
 
 '^lacll: Tawn gypsy children of late Summer days 
 epci Camping beside the meadow where the sun 
 ^n£iatl£t Wakes hot, wild perfume and bright webs are spun, 
 Soft silken pitfalls of the grassy ways, 
 Wherein you laugh to see the bees that praise 
 Your loveliness, fall blundering, in elfish fun 
 Nodding your heads to see them thus undone 
 Or dancing with the wind in hoydenish plays. 
 Soon will the Frost, freebooter, pitiless, 
 March down upon you stealthily at night 
 And you be captive, in your helplessness 
 Standing before him whose one law is might ; 
 Serving in tatters, suffering his caress, 
 And left to perish when his hordes take flight. 
 
aSeneatfj Blue %km antr ©rag 
 
 ©n The tall catalpas, all in white, lean 
 0Vttn far out o'er the stream ; 
 
 Ribtr In little fleets their blossoms float where 
 runs a silvery gleam ; 
 The halcyon falls, a flash of blue, the 
 
 hawk in circles slow 
 Mounts up and up until he's lost far 
 
 in the golden glow. 
 O Ao, hoi ho, boys walk along-! 
 O ho, hoi ho, boys ivalk along-'. 
 
 The sunlight smites the river hard, its 
 
 ripples flash a-fire, 
 A murmuring music's in the leaves, 
 
 a glad aeolian lyre, 
 A fisher sits beneath the shade, the 
 
 sunlight sifting thro' 
 Below, above, he sees the clouds float 
 
 softly in the blue. 
 O ho, hoi ho, boys walk along! 
 O ho, hoi ho, boys walk along! 
 
 A fret of silver runs across the 
 
 current's molten gold, 
 The fingers of the wind are there in 
 
 merry touch and bold, 
 The sweet-brier dances to the tune 
 
 the wind and ripples play 
 
^ Mook of ^loems 
 
 ©n There at the bankside 'midst the ferns ; 
 0VttXl and all the hazels sway. 
 
 Httirr O/i, ~j:alk along ^ boys, zvalk along! 
 
 .ntinned) Wg'H oret there bv and b\\ -ivalk aloncrl 
 
 The raft comes slowly round the bend, its 
 
 long sweep dripping light 
 As lifted, dipped, by sinewy arms, it 
 
 steers the raft aright ; 
 The raftmen's tent is cool and white — 
 
 there comes a whiff of smoke. 
 The last, pure fragrant offering of hickory 
 
 or oak. 
 Oh, ivalk along, boys, ivalk along I 
 Say, hurry up your dinner, ivalk along! 
 
 O days beneath the bright June sky, 
 
 O days so fair and fleet ! 
 Like blossoms treasured in a book, that 
 
 faded yet are sweet ! 
 O rugged raftmen at the sweep with 
 
 brown bare arms and strong, 
 There is a chord in memory that 
 
 vibrates to your song ! 
 O ho, hoi ho, boys ivalk along! 
 We'll get there by and by, ivalk along! 
 
Bmeatft Blue ^feies antr ©rag 
 
 ^eantp When round the white, uplifted, holy brow 
 Of some tall peak a halo of pale gold 
 Thro' gathering dusk, doth rapturously hold 
 Our eyes and thoughts, and lift us from the slough 
 Of sordidness that Beauty may endow 
 Us richly with her treasures manifold. 
 Shall we in marts where lives are bought and sold 
 Straightway forget her in some Mammon vow? 
 Shall we shut out the music of the sea? 
 Or slight the flowers that fair hands upreach 
 Like little children, prattlers at the knee 
 Of Nature, mother eloquent to teach? 
 Ah, having all things, poor indeed were we 
 Undowei-ed of Beauty, knowing not her speech. 
 
91 Ah, how I love this quiet way 
 
 Walk That leads me from the town 
 
 at That leads me from its smoky sway 
 
 S>ttll6Ct To pleasant meadows, bi'own. 
 
 The woods are flecked with red and gold 
 
 The willowed creek is low, 
 And in its shadows, dank and cold, 
 
 The Cardinal flowers glow. 
 
 The hoary fences, misers, count 
 
 Their stoi-es of golden-rod, 
 The milkweed's winged children mount 
 
 From many a silken pod. 
 
 Broad fields are purple with the plumes 
 
 Of sinewy ironweeds. 
 And roses that were crowned with blooms, 
 
 Wear strings of coral beads. 
 
 The silent couriers of the Dusk 
 
 Wait in the shadows deep ; 
 The tall corn, still in untorn husk, 
 
 Seems drowsing into sleep. 
 
 Now hangs the red globe of the sun 
 
 Upon the brink of night ; 
 And silently the mists are spun 
 
 In gossamers of white. 
 
 19 
 
BeneatJj Blue ^km anlr iffirag 
 
 31 The grass is crisp beneath my feet, 
 3^alil A leaf is shaken down ; 
 
 at The stars come out — the way is sweet 
 ibtttUSet That leads me back to town. 
 
 (Continued) 
 
 That leads me back to home and her 
 Whose love o'er all I prize, 
 
 Who welcomes me with lips of myrrh. 
 And smiles and love-lit eyes. 
 
)ere Here pours the creek its bubbled tide 
 In circling currents, slow, 
 The deer-berries nodding at its side 
 Sun-kissed are all aglow. 
 
 Here willows in long olive lines 
 
 Dance to the water's tune, 
 And, fragrantly, from hidden shrines 
 
 Are wafted prayers for June. 
 
 Here cobweb bridges sway and swing 
 
 Beneath the Wind's light tread ; 
 And, touched by some sweet thought of Spring, 
 
 The maple buds turn red. 
 
BeneatJ) J3Iut pities antr (&rag 
 
 31 The silvery pipes of sparrows softlv blown 
 Clotfittr From rose and holly thickets, and the flute 
 
 Of a meadow-lark from fields that else are mute — 
 
 And in the oaks the wind's low monotone. 
 
 And thoughts that thrill me as I walk alone — 
 
 Thoughts sweeter than the music of a lute 
 
 Swept by Hght hands. No triflers here dispute 
 
 With jangling voices over the unknown, 
 
 Nor wild, rough words jar on the strings of peace 
 
 That breathe the melody of true content ; 
 
 But faith is crystal clear and joy is deep : 
 
 For here my God doth me a cloister keep 
 
 Near to the hills where Heaven and earth are blent 
 
 And all the discords of the dark world cease. 
 
1 aSoob ot ^|ocm9 
 
 O gentle days of Autumn ! 
 O holy days of gray ! 
 That with an inner rapture 
 In meditation stray — 
 How peaceful 'tis to follow 
 With you to lead the way. 
 
 To follow where the sumacs 
 Like candelabra, red, 
 Light brakes of brier antl hazel, 
 And leaves are thickly spread 
 A carpet, russet-golden. 
 That rustles to the tread — 
 
 Through flower-haunted places 
 In misty meadows, low, 
 Or by the winding creek side 
 To hear the waters flow — 
 The happy waters singing 
 A song that poets know. 
 
 Or up the steeps of hillsides 
 
 Thro' pearly-tinted grays 
 
 Of sweet life-everlasting, 
 
 To see the mellow haze 
 
 Far breathed o'er the landscape — 
 
 A quiet world that prays. 
 
 23 
 
ijcncatlj Blur pities aiiD (Grag 
 
 SLutumn But sweetest when I follow 
 ^aV6 With you, and fails the light 
 
 (Continued YaT ill the magic westland. 
 And gently comes the night. 
 And trembling on her bosom 
 One little star of white — 
 
 To hear a tender message. 
 A spirit message clear — 
 A voice from out the meadows 
 Thro' mists that falter near, 
 That holds me as 'twere music 
 Of Heaven upon my ear. 
 
 A bird, and yet a spirit 
 Of time long, long ago, 
 Who. by the shore of twilight 
 Beneath the day's last glow, 
 Doth on the pipes of mem'ry 
 A lovelv flute-call blow. 
 
^ Book of ilJoems 
 
 91 I hear it oft in the deep o' the night, 
 Soice Callings calling to tne^ 
 
 When laughter has passed, love, laughter, and light. 
 Callings call i fig to me. 
 
 What does it want in the night so deep? 
 
 Calling., calling to, 7ne. 
 Why does it moan in the halls o' sleep ? 
 
 Calling., calling to me. 
 
 I cannot go for the way is cold 
 
 Callings calling to me. 
 Leading down by the oak tree, old. 
 
 Calling, calling to me. 
 
 I cannot go for fresh is the sod 
 
 Calling., calling to ?ne. 
 There where the thick-leaved hazels nod. 
 
 Calling, calling to me. 
 
 What have I done, O God, in the w^ay .? 
 
 Calling, calling to me. 
 There where the thick-leaved hazels sway.? 
 
 Calling, calling to me. 
 
 Why does the moon wear a shroud to-night.? 
 
 Calling, calling to me. 
 () God, must I look on that face so white 
 
 Calling, calling to me? 
 
33eneat|) 33Iue %lm^ mxti iSiag 
 
 KelrtDinff Winged flame and flute of Spring, 
 You the woodlands hear I 
 Tips of twigs are shining clear, 
 And the blackbirds sing. 
 
 March's color-bearer, true, 
 
 Lo, the tents of green I 
 
 And the maple's fires between. 
 
 Bright to welcome you. 
 
 Lover of the misty sky 
 
 And the golden shower ! 
 
 Warder of the budding hour 
 When new dreams are nigh — 
 
 Tell me when vou came, and how, 
 
 In what magic way ? 
 
 Yesterday the world was gray. 
 It is rainbowed now ! 
 
 Ah, to follow where you go 
 
 On your joyous flight ! 
 
 Kindling, with your wings of light. 
 Flowers on meadows low. 
 
 Winged flame and flute of Spring, 
 Happy, we who hear I 
 While the bright'ning buds appear, 
 
 And the blackbirds sing. 
 26 
 
^ Book ot ^otm^ 
 
 CI)f Seraphic vision I Day is done, and see I 
 §>I)intn3; The hosts of God with shining wings outspread 
 |)0fit6 Filling the world with glory, upward led 
 To holy heights where burns eternally 
 The white, unwavering flame of purity. 
 Or is this that great company of dead 
 Which passed in darkness, now transfigured 
 In wondrous beauty, beckoning to me ? 
 I know not now, but One doth sui-ely speak 
 Out of the rainbow, from the stars of Night, 
 And from the splendor of this passing light : 
 And Him, and Him alone, my soul doth seek. 
 Surely He calls me thro' these visions bright, 
 Surely He waits me on some heavenly peak. 
 
 27 
 
Beneati) Blue pities antr (JSrag 
 
 ^l^j Far overhead the icy West wind roars, 
 (Buitt Whipping the tree-tops with his furious lash 
 Cham= Till all the creaking boughs together clash. 
 
 Ijpj^g But here the brown leaves on the windless floors 
 Lie all unruffled, and the sycamores 
 That love the streams, with many a hardened ash 
 Moss-boled, unmindful of the crash 
 Above them, rise from peaceful shores. 
 Here broods the spirit of eternal peace 
 Giving the benison of golden calm, 
 While wildest storms break on the world above. 
 These are the deeps where strife and clamor cease, 
 The Quiet Chambers odorous with balm 
 That speak the restfulness of God's own love. 
 
 28 
 
a Mook ot Ipocms 
 
 9L A longing, strange and sweet, 
 
 LonstUff Comes o'er me when I hear 
 
 That guiding call so clear 
 From noiseless wings that beat — 
 Wedging their way to rest 
 Far in the charmed west, 
 By some calm water, deep, 
 By some still, mist-hid stream where 
 dwelleth sleep. 
 
 Ah, may I, too, some day 
 Find the far happy isles. 
 Where after weary miles 
 
 I shall with loved ones stay ; 
 And know without surcease 
 The blessedness of peace. 
 
 Yea, end this cloudy quest 
 In some clear, rainbow land where 
 all is rest. 
 
 O longing strange and sweet ! 
 Beyond this mystery 
 My Leader calls to me : 
 
 To bear me up and on 
 
 Where my beloved are gone. 
 
 Breaks now a clearer light — 
 I hear His call and know that all 
 is right. 
 
 29 
 
33€neatfj 33Iut ^feies antr (&rag 
 
 2L O spirit of the Winter wind, of gray 
 Call clouds hanging low, 
 
 The message that you bring to me is 
 
 clearest that I know — 
 And I will follow where you lead 
 
 adoNNni the wooded steep 
 
 Where in the winding hollows lie the 
 
 brown leaves fast asleep. 
 
 And you shall tell me of your dreams 
 
 and I will tell you mine, 
 While listening to that song I love, the 
 
 wind-song of the pine : 
 Ah, yes, in God's wide chambers where 
 
 the light is full and free 
 Yet softly shining thro' the haze of life's 
 
 old mystery. 
 
 O spirit of the Winter wind I hear you 
 
 calling now : 
 " Come out 1 come out 1 " you seem to say, 
 
 ** beneath the leafless bough 1 
 Where bloom the flowers of the frost 
 
 in all their crystal grace, 
 And tangled in the ironweeds are webs 
 
 of snowv lace." 
 
^ aSook of 4|<iems 
 
 I hear the waters flowing over ice 
 
 like fluted pearl, 
 The wild ducks northward beat their way, 
 
 the plovers round me skirl ; 
 And with his rhythmic hammer taps the 
 
 flicker all the day. 
 And woods are weft with colors of 
 
 the redbird and the jay. 
 
 The world is housed, but you and I 
 
 may wander where we will. 
 And list the music of the woods, or low, 
 
 or high and shrill — 
 Or in the meadow lie at rest among the 
 
 broomsedge, tall, 
 And hear, far-off, a spirit voice, the 
 
 meadow-lark's clear call. 
 
 Glad spirit of the Winter wind I hear 
 
 you calling now : 
 " Come out ! come out ! " you seem to say, 
 
 " and keep with me a vow ! 
 For we must make a pilgrimage 
 
 to worship at a shrine 
 Deep in the woods, where ever sounds 
 
 the wind-song of the pine." 
 
aacncatfj mm pities antr ©rag 
 
 ^{)0 Down sinks the glowing red disc of the sun 
 ^jp Behind the dark oak wood, and floating bright. 
 is 2)one Gold-roseate bubbles on the brim of night, 
 The little clouds evanish one by one. 
 And twilight deepens and The Day is Done. 
 The Day is Done, and with its passing light 
 How much of weariness, how much of blight 
 That in the morning with its tasks begun 
 Our hearts undreamed of. Ah, me, good is rest ! 
 Profoundest rest without a thought or dream. 
 Without a glimmer of the day to be, 
 Without a memory' of the strife, the quest. 
 Small thought the toiler has for morning's beam 
 But only from his labor to be free. 
 
at Hook oi ^otnx^ 
 
 C1)C A little while at sundown's splendid gate 
 Pafifiing: She lingering stood, and looked adown the way 
 of 3Dap Her feet had trod, and, looking, seemed to pray 
 For her dear hills, in love compassionate — 
 For her dear hills who thro' the years would wait 
 To greet her coming, true to her for aye — 
 Forgetting her not among the gay 
 Succeeding days — a memory consecrate. 
 And in great tenderness she gently laid 
 Bright golden chaplets on each brow, and, slow, 
 All wrapped in rosy mists did softly fade 
 Into the past, yet left an afterglow 
 Of wondrous beauty whereon white stars made 
 A wide-meshed net of splendor hanging low. 
 
 33 
 
Bcneatfj I31itc ^feies antr ©rag 
 
 C^entlUc The romping winds that swiftly pass 
 Make waves and dimples in the grass. 
 
 The wheatfield, purpling fold on fold, 
 Is starred with sheaves of harvest gold. 
 
 Xew carpeted from Summer's loom 
 The meadows pink with clover bloom. 
 
 The willows downy lint of white 
 Is shaken windward silken bright. 
 
 A child's shrill cry, a far-off song 
 Upon the silence float along. 
 
 The dusky robes of nearing Night 
 Are softly fringed with orange light. 
 
 And in the linden hanging low- 
 Diana's sharp-tipped silver bow. 
 
 34 
 
^ liDofe of ^Pocms 
 
 Late The garnered fields are betted round 
 9[ftcr= With leafless woods of gray, 
 
 noon in And to the rhythm of keen winds 
 ItJoticm-- The branches sway. 
 
 ber 
 
 O'er head, on lazy loitering wings, 
 
 Against a cloud-ribbed sky. 
 With out-craned necks and mocking caws 
 
 The crows flock by. 
 
 The tented army of the corn 
 Waits in the lowlands, brown, 
 
 The sun drops hazily behind 
 The smoke- wreathed town. 
 
 Now quiet hushes with mute touch 
 
 The whisper'ng grasses, tall, 
 And, standing tiptoe, waits to catch 
 
 Night's first foot-fall. 
 
 A bar of red gold gleams athwart 
 
 The west and groweth dim 
 And fades, and darkness overflows 
 
 Deep twilight's brim. 
 
 35 
 
Beneatlj Blue ^feies antr (ffirag 
 
 91 There comes a vision of a bright spot cleared 
 Clearing Within a deep, deep wood of oak and pine, 
 A little cabin where wild grape-vines twine. 
 And gourds for swallows on a tall pole reared 
 Sway in the breeze : a memory endeared 
 By youth's associations, clear sunshine 
 That thro' life's clouded days has e'er been mine 
 And with its gladness has my pathway cheered. 
 A little clearing whei'ein woodsmoke curled 
 In fragrant incense from a happy hearth, 
 And melted softly in the blue above. 
 A little home uncaring of the world, 
 Of pleasant books, of health, of faith, of mirth. 
 Wherein there dwelt the blessed angel Love. 
 
at ^ook ot ^(JDcms 
 
 STI^e Th' expectant wood that late had gentlei' grown 
 CrOfiifil Watched, waiting for the advent of the Spring; 
 The sun hung low, I heard the robins sing, 
 And far-off bells across the meadows blown ; 
 The world was very still, and I, alone. 
 Walking slowly homeward with my thoughts awing 
 To seek the mystery of the soul, to bring 
 Some certain token from that land unknown. 
 When lo ! from out the west a ray of gold 
 Far-reaching, glorious, touched a distant spire 
 And bright'ning upward, gleamed, a holy fire. 
 Upon The Cross. O God of love untold 
 Cannot we trust Thee that this deep desire 
 Shall find fruition when Thy gates unfold ! 
 
 37 
 
Bemati) Mm pities antr iJSiag 
 
 jFr06t= T^^^e sycamores' white branches are 
 ttuie tipped with yellow leaves, 
 
 The sparrows gossip cozily beneath 
 
 the red-haw's eaves, 
 The poison-oak shoots slender flame 
 
 up thro' the poplar's gold, 
 And the aspens are a-shiver at the 
 step of coming Cold, 
 
 The blackgums glow in purple along 
 
 the woodland's edge, 
 The reddening osage-oranges lie thick 
 
 beneath the hedge, 
 The sumacs, scarlet-coated, nod by 
 
 the gray fence-rows. 
 And clematis, as white as snow, 
 
 across the fencetop flows. 
 
 The silver silken gossamers are 
 
 twinkling on the hill. 
 And with a gentle loneliness the fields 
 
 are all athrill, 
 There's stubble in the cornfields, 
 
 and mottled gold and brown 
 Of rich tobacco in the barns — and 
 
 fleets of thistledown. 
 
 38 
 
a ^ook of IPoems 
 
 iFrofit- The yellow plumes of golden-rod are 
 time turned to grayish white ; 
 
 (Continued) ^hc Creek is low, its stilly pools 
 
 with fallen leaves are bright ; 
 The hickory-nuts and acorns lie 
 
 thick upon the ground, 
 And wild grapes hang along the 
 
 limbs of thickets they have bound. 
 
 O, now, 'tis sweet at dusk to hear 
 
 the whistle of the quail , 
 To walk beneath the day's last glow 
 
 knee-deep in grasses pale ; 
 To hear the low of cattle, and the 
 
 clatter of the bars ; 
 To watch the crystal twinkle of the 
 
 first of many stars. 
 
 And in the morning early, when the 
 
 east is all a-tinge 
 With the glory of the coming, when 
 
 beyond the woodland's fringe 
 In silence wells the beauty of the 
 
 day-spring flowing near. 
 And falters down the hoary hills 
 
 in quiet white and clear — 
 
 39 
 
BmcatJ) Blue S)fetes mtj ©rag 
 
 JrOSt- Oh, then, when robins twitter and the 
 time wrens are chirping nigh, 
 
 (CoHtinued) j^^-^^ maples flash another dawn to 
 greet the dawn on high, 
 There's ecstacy in breathing, yes 
 
 a tang in all the air, 
 A rapture in the very blood that 
 makes one laugh at care. 
 
 Oh, lusty Frost-time, kiss the leaves 
 
 and turn them rosy red ! 
 And let all stars the brighter be that 
 
 shine out overhead. 
 And trail the mists like silver 
 
 scarfs across the meadows, low. 
 And over all the glamour of thy 
 
 happy presence throw. 
 
 40 
 
a iSodfe of ^loems 
 
 QLi)t Upon the elms there lay a mist of green, 
 jFirSt The maple buds were red, the fallowed fields 
 •?8lartt= Were smoking in the sunlight, and the wealds 
 
 hivti Were softer grown, and winds, no longer keen, 
 Breathed life into the violets ; clouds serene 
 Were drifting in the blue, their shadow keels 
 Dark'ning the meadows, where, with song that steals 
 From some far spirit land, the lark is seen. 
 Then sang the blackbird joyously a-swing 
 Upon a willow o'er a bubbled stream. 
 The sunlight glinting on his burnished wing. 
 His song the echo of a sylvan dream 
 Of some delightful clime where flowers fling 
 Their golden largess to the Constant Spring. 
 
i3eneat|) 33Iut pities antr ©tag 
 
 Cerefi The amber wheat, the silvery r^-e 
 Flowed down on either side 
 The brambled fence : the western sky 
 Was dappled far and wide. 
 
 With shining flecks of golden light, 
 
 And one white, trembling star 
 Looked out upon the sea of Xight 
 
 Across a rosy bar. 
 
 The moon, a thread of silver, hung 
 
 Low tangled in the trees, 
 And dimpling grasses softly sung 
 
 The lyrics of the breeze. 
 
 Then, while the rosy light grew less 
 
 And faded from the blue. 
 Came Ceres thro' the quietness 
 
 With fragrant dusk and dew. 
 
a Book of ^Poems 
 
 91 O mighty Cloud above yon wooded slope, 
 Clonll Thy garments golden tinted, art thou he 
 Whom late I saw in warlike panoply. 
 The fierce sword flashing, with whom none might cope? 
 Behold thou seemest an angel, now, of Hope 
 In dazzling raiment, beckoning to me 
 On heavenlier heights to follow after thee 
 At whose command the gates of morning ope ! 
 Ah, mock me not, nor lead me on to shake 
 Thy awful thunders o'er my helpless head ! 
 But be thou tender as thou seemest now ; 
 And 'neath thy shining wings a shelter make. 
 Smile thou upon me lest I be afraid 
 And wear, for me. Love's aureole on thy brow. 
 
 43 
 
Mtmatb iSIue ^feies anU (JKrag 
 
 (Some ! Come ! the lusty morning star 
 Pales above a rosy bar ! 
 Redbuds pui-ple, dogwoods white, 
 Glimmer thro' the faery light. 
 Thro' the greening meadow, wide. 
 Flows the mist a silver tide ; 
 Passion breathed whisperings, 
 Love songs that the robin sings, 
 Rainbow dewdrops twinkling new 
 Golden clouds and deeps o' blue — 
 These shall lead us, these shall bring 
 Laughter dimpled hopes of Spring. 
 
W))^tt'tV Whate'er of agony of heart be mine, 
 •^Befalls Whate'er of labor ere my race is run, 
 
 0it Of weary darkness ere my day be done — 
 I shall remember how the dear stars shine : 
 The mystic music of the wind and pine, 
 The unspeakable glory of the passing sun. 
 The gossamers in looms of Morning spun. 
 And, where I worshiped, the deep woodland shrine. 
 I shall remember to my latest breath — 
 And may I hear the vesper sparrow sing 
 In passing, and behold the sunset light 
 Even unto the very gate of death ! 
 And after that — dear God I pray Thee bring 
 These that I love unto me thro' the night. 
 
 45 
 
Beneatl) Uhtt ^km antr (Krag 
 
 CotD Music of quiet lanes, O mellow bells, 
 ^tlle I follow where you lead adown the way 
 
 Unto the creek where nods the drowsy day 
 Lulled by light ripples, and the blue flag tells 
 Her dreams unto the dragon-fly — where dwells 
 The heron, sage, whose sober thoughts ne'er stray 
 To laughing waters or the notes you play 
 O golden voices ringing thro' the dells ! 
 No poet, he, but cold philosopher ! 
 Leave him, lead on, the dew begins to fall, 
 A clear voice calls us from the trysting bars. 
 The meadows, hills, are one soft fragrant blur, 
 And in the rose, above the wood's dark wall, 
 Trembling like dewdrops shine the early stars. 
 
3[t tj)e Snow petals lay 
 
 •^enl On the grasses, gray, 
 
 of t^t At the bend of the creek where the waters tinkled 
 Creell Softly as wire 
 
 Under ice, like pearl, 
 All fluted and curled and frost besprinkled. 
 
 Laughters that sleep 
 
 In the current, deep. 
 Soft dappled with shadows of glistening umber. 
 
 Bubbled, awake. 
 
 At the pebbly break, 
 Rippled, and sank once more into slumber. 
 
 And a redbird came, 
 
 Like a shaft of flame 
 Shot suddenly down thro' the silence and whiteness ; 
 
 And a quail piped clear 
 
 From a cornfleld near. 
 Then dusk, and stars, and the night's cold brightness. 
 
 47 
 
BeneatTj JSlue ^fetcs antr ©frag 
 
 Cl^e I saw, when the wind of the west blew free, 
 9lnttlle6 Gold-clustered in a silver sea, 
 of tl)e The fair Antilles of the sky 
 ^fep That off the coast of sundown lie — 
 Gold-clustered, with an inner light, 
 Above the flowing tide of Night. 
 
 The charmed waves go singing there, 
 A chastened glory fills the air. 
 And song is crowned, and ever swells 
 Her praise as sweet as silver bells, 
 And thro' a vale that dreamers know 
 The poppy-broidered rivers flow. 
 
 And on a level spot is seen 
 A try sting place of beryl green. 
 Where fragrant drifts of sunny snows 
 Are touched with tints of pearl and rose 
 O'er-topped by that transcendent peak 
 Of perfectness that poets seek. 
 
 And in that realm of faery dwell, 
 In gardens bright with asphodel. 
 The souls of poets past the scorn. 
 To sweeter life, thro' death, new-born. 
 And beaut}- leads them evermore 
 Along a music-haunted shore. 
 
 48 
 
^ 3Soolt of ^onm 
 
 ^baloto Gray clouds hang o'er the fallen sun, 
 
 And meadow-lark's flutes are faintly blown 
 From far meads, o'er the cornfields, dun. 
 Lying low and lone. 
 
 Fine and thin are the mist-shrouds spun 
 By Night's cold hands now the day has flown, 
 Shrouds all white for the cornfields, dun. 
 Lying low and lone. 
 
 Stillness : save where the little streams run 
 Whisperingly. and the wind makes moan ; 
 And darkness bows o'er the cornfields, dun, 
 Lying low and lone. 
 
 49 
 
aScneatTj Bliit %'km ant ©rag 
 
 (3l)C The rain, from shining rainbowed skies, 
 ClolJer Blew soft against my cheek, 
 ^lasdom I had gone forth into the fields 
 Their restfulness to seek — 
 And stood where I could hear the low 
 Clear carol of the creek. 
 
 The clover blossom by the way 
 
 Bent down to kiss my feet, 
 But I, in all my sinfulness, 
 
 I could not think it meet — 
 I worthy to but touch the hem 
 
 Of robe so pure and sweet. 
 
 And by the clover blossom, there, 
 
 I prayed that I might be 
 As worthy ; that my Lord might come 
 
 In tender love to me. 
 And on me place the perfect grace 
 
 Of lowly purity. 
 
 50 
 
E Mook of iPoems 
 
 A sadness brooded o'er the earth, the sky 
 Was one dull blur, the silent, sentinel trees 
 Upon the upland, mist-wreathed to their knees. 
 Seemed watching ever for young Hope gone by 
 With all her trains of happy minsti^elsy — 
 The bright-eyed smiling hours, the birds, the bees, 
 And brooks that know all artless melodies 
 And all the forest children fair and shy. 
 When suddenly from out the mist there came 
 A flute-like note : so true, so clear, so sweet — 
 Such as the thickets know when winged flame 
 The cardinal comes his own true love to greet. 
 Ah, welcome prophecy ! Let sadness claim 
 The earth awhile — soon Spring and I shall meet. 
 
 51 
 
(ri)C P'ile sunshine flickers in the dewy brake 
 Sirro Beside the creek where liriodendrons, tall, 
 
 Lift high their golden cups, and raindrops fall 
 Like splendid jewels that the breezes shake 
 From rainbowed skies, and vireo doth make 
 The woods delightful with his mellow call — 
 A music of sweet reeds that filleth all 
 The leafy chambers, and bright dreams awake. 
 Far off the world seems to me, sitting here 
 O'er-arched with delicate green, and on my heart 
 A great joy falls, for I am one of you 
 O trees, O stream, O vireo singing clear I 
 Escaped forever from the noisy mart, 
 A white cloud dreaming in the tranquil blue. 
 
 52 
 
^ Mook of ^oems 
 
 Cbt The dusk is deepening, and the wizard stars 
 ^ttSk is That set adrift all dreams and mysteries 
 ^ttptn- Walk on the marge of Night; no discord mars 
 inff The quiet hour's clear pulsing harmonies, 
 
 The beat of innumerable lives in grass and trees. 
 
 Hushed is cicada ; when the level light 
 
 Failed in the treetops, sank to earth's wide rim, 
 
 His shrill voice ceased ; then did the crickets smite 
 
 Their harps in unison in solemn hymn. 
 
 Lighted by dewdrops in leaf-chambers dim. 
 
 Dost hear Lord God these myriad voices small, 
 Mine own with theirs, that cry here in the dark. 
 And pass with Summer, pass beyond recall 
 As in the night an outward-flying spark. 
 These little lives of ours dost care to mark .'' 
 
 Why should we know.-* the Summer night is sweet, 
 The stai's are fair, love's lips are very near — 
 Why should we know if we with Thee shall meet? 
 These simple songs of ours to us are dear 
 Would they be sweeter knowing Thou dost hear? 
 
 These simple songs of ours, we'll sing them o'er 
 And joy in one another — who can see 
 Beyond the portal of that dark "No More ?" 
 The future is all shadow — let it be. 
 If Thou art Love 'twill brighten unto Thee. 
 
 53 
 
Bettcatfj Blue %km antr €^rag 
 
 3L Spirit Immortal surely this must be 
 ^uneet A vision of Thy glory : on the hills 
 
 A beauty not of earth, the light that fills 
 The chambers of Thy presence eternally ! 
 And in this quiet Thou art near to me, 
 Yea, surely 'tis Thy very touch that stills 
 My soul's unrest, and these Thy little rills 
 That know Thy voice are prattling unto Thee. 
 Oh, 'tis a holy time ! unto my soul 
 A benediction of unchanging love, 
 Waking the chords of memory and tears : 
 While softer, tenderer shines Thy aureole. 
 And one by one are lit Thy stars above, 
 To lead me on thro' darkness and thro' fears. 
 
 54 
 
31 When to the wind the wildrose lifts pure lips, 
 Presence And in a quiet place the vireo sings, 
 
 While, molten gold, the dewy sunshine drips 
 Leaf-filtered on his happy song-thrilled wings — 
 When trumpet vines red-clustered on the hill 
 Blow joyous welcome to the huntress morn, 
 And fragrant-robed beside clear pools and still 
 The elder dreams o'er watched by ranks of corn — 
 I see her passing, samite-clad and fair. 
 With mists that melt into the golden air. 
 
 Nor is she absent from the wintry wood 
 Where frost-stars shine in all their loveliness, 
 She bringeth there her gracious gift of good. 
 She walketh there in beauty none the less. 
 Above her glow the heavens rosy cold. 
 To every twig there comes a clearer grace. 
 The moss is greener on the oak tree, old, 
 There is a welcome in each sheltered place — 
 And music there of mellow reeds and true 
 Whereon, one day, God Pan a parting blew. 
 
 true beloved of the stars and fields 
 
 1 would that I might follow where you lead ! 
 
 O'er fresh-plowed earth, thro' all the happy wealds. 
 By sparkling waters in a fragrant mead. 
 
 55 
 
l^tmatb Blue ^feies antr (JKrag 
 
 91 Or deep into the winter's crystal core, 
 presence Or where the leaves fall, scarlet, red and gold ; 
 (Continued) Sq J might follow — loving you the more, 
 
 Look in your face and with you converse hold. 
 I see you beckon, but with fettered feet 
 Far off I follow in your footsteps sweet. 
 
^ Book oC ^dems 
 
 CI)C Silent, dark-browed, and cold you seem to me 
 Cellars Seen from this bright hillside where redbuds glow 
 In ardent beauty, and the winds that flow 
 In warmer currents bear to many a tree 
 A subtile impulse that exquisitely 
 Goes wavering upward till new blossoms blow 
 And tender tips of green the branches know 
 Melodious with the murmur of the bee. 
 Yet I forget not, thro' keen winter days 
 Your kindly arms outstretched did keep the herds, 
 And now within your pleasant rooms the birds 
 Watched o'er by you sing love's own tenderest lays ; 
 Their nestlings safe, lulled by your whispered words 
 And that great wind-harp which a spirit plays. 
 
Bertcatlj asiuc g)fei(s ant} (ffifrag 
 
 pule-- Now upon the soul's broad hearthstone 
 ^itit lay the crimson brands for lighting, 
 With the charm of touch and whisper 
 
 wake the bright warm-hearted flume, 
 Till it, rising, kisses softly all the 
 
 arches bending o'er it, 
 Till the winged sparks go singing thro' 
 the night Love's holy name. 
 
 Lusty mistletoe be bringing, boughs of 
 
 cedars, wreaths of holly ; 
 To each heart a cup of laughter 
 
 touched by gracious vestal lips. 
 Now the disc of every sorrow joy 
 
 shall circle with a halo. 
 As the sun hangs golden banners 
 
 round the shadow of eclipse. 
 
 Long within the soul, God's Temple, dark- 
 ness festooned hung forbidding, 
 
 Draped the windows barred and leaden, 
 draped the gnarled and studded door — 
 
 While with fitful flare and flicker 
 
 danced the Yule-light hollow hearted 
 
 As wild Superstition moving, dancing 
 on the stained floor. 
 
 S8 
 
^ Book of ^locms 
 
 Long the angry sparks sang : " Hatred ! " 
 
 hate of brother unto brother ; 
 Long the mistletoe was severed with 
 
 a sacrificial knife 
 Sheathed oft within the bosom 
 
 of a hapless human victim : 
 Telling of a hideous worship 
 
 and the creed of life for life. 
 
 But at last an oriel window set 
 
 toward the hills of morning, 
 Where with reverent brows uplifted 
 
 pray the mighty peaks of Hope, 
 Thrilled with prescient thrill of 
 
 glory as the Day Star shone upon it, 
 Thrilled as thrill a parent watcher 
 
 'neath a blessed horoscope. 
 
 Sudden dust that dropt and vanished 
 
 fell the rotten folds of darkness, 
 Thro' the oriels' veins translucent ran 
 
 a ruby current mild ; 
 Clusters, there, of roses blossomed, lilies 
 
 swung their snowy censers 
 O'er a mother, and a manger, and 
 
 the sweet face of a child. 
 
 59 
 
BcncatTj Blue ^kics anir ffirag 
 
 PuU' All the Temple was transfigured and 
 CiHe a silent benediction 
 (Continued) pg]! ^^ ccdar, fell on holly, fell 
 on pearl-strung mistletoe. 
 " God," they murmured, " and not Odin," 
 
 *' Christ," they murmured, "and not Balder,' 
 And awed Superstition, kneeling, 
 heard forgiveness whispered low. 
 
 Swung the door upon the hinges, 
 
 and the angels of God's Heaven 
 Sti'aightway came within the Temple 
 
 singing songs of holy cheer. 
 
 Sang they all of Jesus blessed, 
 
 sang they of His peace eternal 
 Spanning all the broken earth 
 
 clouds like an emerald rainbow clear. 
 
 Stay, sweet angels, ever singing carols 
 
 to my Lord and Saviour, 
 Sing : " He oped the orient portals 
 
 with a rosy baby hand ! " 
 Sing : " He suffered more than 
 
 martyr, making earth with feet of sorrow, 
 While behind him joys and blessings 
 
 blossomed in the desert land ! " 
 
 60 
 
a Book «( ^oems 
 
 APOSTROPHE. 
 
 Lord we stand upon the margin 
 
 of that ocean stretching outward 
 Far beyond the isles of knowledge, 
 
 far beyond the mount of Light — 
 Only Love can hear its billows 
 
 breaking on the shore Hereafter, 
 Only Faith can see Thy Heaven 
 
 bathed in everlasting light. 
 
 Then in this Thy dearest gift-time 
 
 when to us Thyself Thou gavest, 
 Give us Faith and Love to guide 
 
 us teaching of Heaven and Thee — 
 Lest we fall to idle talking with 
 
 doubt walking close beside us. 
 Lest we say, with Him : " Hope 
 
 never ! all beyond is shoreless Sea 
 
Mtmati) 33Iue ^kies antr ©rag 
 
 3ln Oh, the peach is in pink and in white is the cherry, 
 9tpril And the pipe of the bluebird is mellow and merr}-, 
 ^ong: And the little frogs cheep 
 
 From the green rushes, deep. 
 And the baby clouds lie in the blue fast asleep 
 Asleep — While the bluebird is merry. 
 
 At the edge of the wood how the maple is glowing. 
 And the windfiowers nod to the creek in its flowing, 
 
 And the sap's running free 
 
 In the heart of each tree, 
 
 And the little leaves laugh in their nest all aglee 
 Aglee — and the creek answers, flowing. 
 
 63 
 
Dim are the emeralds of dead Summer's crown, 
 
 And to her throne, where rubies flash and glow, 
 
 October comes with queenly step and slow, 
 
 Pale asters braided in her tresses brown. 
 
 The blue curled banners of the mist hang down. 
 
 The milkweeds bolls are white with silken snow, 
 
 The thistle's silver argosies out-blow. 
 
 And insect voices chant their Qiieen's renown. 
 
 With tender eyes of happy, dreamful light 
 
 She looks abroad on spreading fallow lands, 
 
 On soft gray skies and wooded hillsides bright, 
 
 The aged Year's offering in her outstretched hands : 
 
 The partridge pipes a welcome : leaping white 
 
 The brook sines welcome from its leaf-strewn sands. 
 
 63 
 
33rntatfj 33lur ^feits antr i&ra)) 
 
 ifLv My heart with longing turns to meadows lowly, 
 
 |)taTt That lie wood-broidered, in brown, t\\nlight lands ; 
 
 tDttJ) Where come the constant stars, God's watchers holy, 
 
 LflttffiES And Peace awaits me \N-ith dear welcoming hands. 
 
 My heart with longing turns to thoughts that guide me 
 To one white brook that knows the woodland ways, 
 
 AMiere thro' glad hours, with Poesy beside me, 
 I dream the dreams of June's bloom-scented days. 
 
 My heart with longing turns to sunsets burning 
 A splendid flame low thro' the frost}- wood 
 
 Netted with naked tvvigs : ah, thither turning 
 I greet the oaks, a sturdy brotherhood. 
 
 The days we toil, the days we toil and languish 
 
 Brought slaves of Mammon, answering to his whip ! 
 
 How much they bring of heartache, bitter anguish, 
 God's happiest children bear nor purse nor scrip. 
 
 But far away within some quiet valley 
 
 They walk ^^^th da\^-n. or darkness, led of stars 
 
 To thoughts of beautA-, thoughts that musically 
 Fall soft as moonlight where no discord mars. 
 
 O God, of all this slaven,- I'm a-wean.- '. 
 
 Thy hills, Thy fields. Thy streams, Thy winds are free 
 While I, their master, in a bondage dreary. 
 
 Grind in the mills that shall at last grind me. 
 
a Uoofe of lloems 
 
 Help me to break these bonds, these fetters galling! 
 
 Lo ! on Thy hills, lit with a splendid light, 
 Thou dost reveal Thyself, Thy glory falling 
 
 About Thee as a garment flaming bright. 
 
 O Vision of Eternal Beauty, Vision Holy ! 
 
 Blest is thy radiance on my longing heart — 
 A light to lighten me in pathways lowly 
 
 And I arise, for joy and strength Thou art. 
 
;^00ll I passed a lonely house upon a hill, 
 
 And in the west the winter sun was low — 
 While fragrant offering of the forest still 
 
 The thin, blue spirals of the smoke rose slow. 
 
 And then it seemed, I cannot tell thee how, 
 I was a brother to the trees and stood 
 
 With sturdy trunk and curved, up-reaching bough 
 One of the patriarchs of that gray old wood. 
 
 The days went by in vailed procession, dreams 
 Stirred in my fibre, dreams fantastic, dark. 
 
 Like deepest night lit by the fitful gleams 
 Of smouldering camp-fires in a forest stark. 
 
 I felt the touch of unseen finger-tips 
 Dim-sensed ; a hand relaxed and cold ; 
 
 I heard the babble of unmeaning lips. 
 
 And shivered groping downward in the mould. 
 
 What was it that I clasped there cloven thro' 
 
 With axe of stone? a something fleshless, round ; 
 
 And memory waked within me and I knew 
 
 Long years before blood darkly stained this ground. 
 
 66 
 
ST^t What dreams have these gray hills that silent lie, 
 l^iUfit The sun-bright cornfields rustling at their feet? 
 The wind that brings new color to the wheat 
 Puffing the snow-white argosies of the sky 
 Rain- laden for some distant land and dry? 
 Dream they of that dark time when, wild and fleet, 
 The storm rushed shrieking by, and burning sleet 
 Fell hissing in the floods, when lifted high 
 They took on form in agony of fire. 
 And sinking down their Titan Mother Earth 
 Seemed, groaning, with this labor to expire 
 Leaving them trembling in their swaddling girth? 
 See, sullenly behind them storm-clouds dire 
 Unbidden spectres of their fiery birth ! 
 
 67 
 
13cntatf) Ulut ^feies anli Grag 
 
 Of The red-\\-ing blackbird, minstrel of the Spring, 
 ;^UU)ttti Returned, a wanderer from the Southland sang 
 In gusty hills of March his roundelay — 
 
 And all the greening hills were listening 
 To hear his mellow voice that sweetly rang 
 Across the meadow in a song so gay. 
 
 *• Love, love." sang he, *' the sunbeam loves the dew, 
 The bee the blossom, and the tawny stream 
 Seeks broad lagoons the haunts of lilies fair, 
 
 '• The clouds all day lie nestling 'gainst the blue, 
 The glow-worms woo the stars, the tall oaks dream 
 Of April with a violet in her hair. 
 
 '• Seek out a mate : soon redbuds on the hill, 
 And dogwoods white, ^vill blossom ; build a nest 
 And weave into it all your brightest hopes. 
 
 *• Xo sweeter happiness the heart can fill. 
 No other way leads into such true rest : 
 Seek out a mate, and up the sunny slopes 
 
 '■' Of rainbowed lands go singing with your dear 
 Or bv the misty willows o'er the brook 
 \\'here bright Spring-beauties open to the light. 
 
 *• Love, love," sang he, •* 'tis love-time of the year. 
 And hearts are lost and won with but a look ; 
 Go build a nest while all the world is bright." 
 
 6S 
 
JForetaete At eve, a worshiper, I stood 
 
 Within the temple of the wood. 
 
 Still thro' the western windows came 
 Long slender shafts of rosy flame. 
 
 Aeolian vespers breathed low 
 
 Did tremble o'er my heart, and flow. 
 
 And kneeling reverently there 
 I felt the circling arms of prayer. 
 
 Then, mighty-voiced harmony, 
 I heard a song of victory. 
 
 And from my soul an answering voice 
 Sang full of rapture : " Soul rejoice ! " 
 
 " Rejoice, O Soul, for thou shalt see 
 The face of Immortality ! " 
 
 And lifting up my chastened eyes. 
 Behold the walls of Paradise ! 
 
 A misty splendor lifted white 
 Above the utmost peaks of Night. 
 
 Then failed my vision, but I knew 
 The voice within my soul was true. 
 
 And from the holy stars there fell 
 The benediction : " All is well !" 
 
 69 
 
Q[,^f. When shadows creep along the bar, 
 tttUHee -^"^ "^ the rose there comes a star, 
 
 And trees grow black against the sky — 
 Where ripples break 1 hear him cry 
 Killdee! Killdee ! 
 
 He cuts the dusk with silver wings, 
 And round the level bar he swings, 
 And up and down in flashing flight 
 He screams across the van of Night — 
 Killdee! Killdee! 
 
 Ah, memories that come to me 
 With thought of days no more to be ; 
 And tears, as floating with the stream 
 I hear him cry as in a dream — 
 
 Killdee! Killdee! 
 
 70 
 
A dappled sky of gold and tender blue 
 Whereon are traced, an etching fine and rare, 
 A great elm's graceful top of fan-like flare 
 And one tall poplar rising straight and true ; 
 Now from deep cups of frost doth Youth renew 
 His lusty strength, and breasts the sparkling air, 
 While life beats high and earth's surpassing fair 
 With that old beauty which is ever new. 
 Ah me, my heart, we too must dance a spring 
 Here on the crisp, white sward, we, too, be young, 
 And wear no more the chains of lethargy — 
 Trim all our fancies to Hope's upward wing. 
 And live as joyously as brooks that tongue 
 Their silvery music, coursing down to sea. 
 
JSeneatl) 3SIue ^km anlr iffirag 
 
 ^aton A breath in the boughs, and the little 
 
 leaves stirred in their sleep, 
 And the stars passed out in the gray of 
 
 the eastern deep. 
 Then, woven by dreams, the rose, and 
 
 the pearl, and the blue. 
 For the white feet of Dawn, and the 
 
 dewdrops trembled and knew. 
 
 72 
 
a aSoofe of ^locma 
 
 Lonjinff I'm sick of the smoky city 
 
 Where busy cares confine, 
 And I long for the mountain heights where sweet 
 Is the balmy breath of the pine. 
 
 Ah, there are the crystal fountains, 
 And there is a restful shrine ; 
 And there I would cease from toil, and breathe 
 The healing breath of the pine. 
 
 I'm sick of the endless battle 
 Oh, if parole were mine ! 
 So far, far-off seem the heights of peace 
 
 Where the unstained banners shine ! 
 
 I faint in the ceaseless conflict ! 
 Great Captain strength is Thine ! 
 Help, oh help ! that at last I may reach 
 Rest, rest on the hills Divine. 
 
 73 
 
Beneatft Blue ^kim antr iffifrag 
 
 91 No herald sounds his name, 
 feniffi)t Unknown save to a few, 
 Yet is his armor bright, 
 And he is leal and true. 
 
 He strives, yet takes no shame 
 If he to dust be trod, 
 
 He strikes with all his might. 
 And leaves the rest with God. 
 
 74 
 
When from the beeches, old, 
 
 Flakes of red gold 
 Fall by the river, gray, 
 Or lightly drift away 
 Upon its current, cold, — 
 When from the dreaming wold 
 
 Passes the day — 
 
 When shadows drowse and sleep 
 
 In hollows deep, 
 And quails pipe here and there. 
 And white frost stings the air, — 
 When bright leaves He a-heap. 
 And winding woodways keep 
 
 A welcome rare — 
 
 Come, when thro' Sundown's gate. 
 
 Yet roseate. 
 The peaks of sunset land 
 Bathed in clear amber stand. 
 While Twilight's pennons wait. 
 Low-drooped, till Night, in state. 
 
 Leads on her band. 
 
 Come, Sweetheart, then, to me 
 
 With laughter free ! 
 And on thy cheeks the glow 
 That April's redbuds know, 
 
BeneatJ) iSlue ^feies antr (ffirag 
 
 ^nbtta* Come in love's witchery, 
 
 tion Curls kissing lovingly 
 
 (Continued) Thy throat of snow ! 
 
 Come ! ah, my pulses feel 
 A rich warmth steal 
 Along them strangely sweet 
 They know thy coming feet. 
 Thy laughter's silvery peal, 
 And to that music leal 
 
 Love's measures beat. 
 
 76 
 
^ Mook of ^oema 
 
 A ribbon spun of threads of gold 
 It winds thro' undulating green, 
 Gray mists sleep in the hollows, cold, 
 The ridges dance in jeweled sheen ; 
 Like roseate clouds the redbuds glow. 
 And thro' the woodlands, tinged with hope. 
 The dogwood's stars as pure as snow 
 Shine in a happy horoscope. 
 
 The mocking-bird is joyous there 
 In wild parabolas of song. 
 The oaks hang out their tassels fair. 
 And there glad-hearted blackbirds throng. 
 And when, as soft as thistle-down. 
 The dusk has fallen, comes, in white. 
 Sweet Hesper thro' the shadows, brown, 
 And scatters there the myrrh of night. 
 
 77 
 
Beneatft Blue ^feies anlr (Krag 
 
 SluJttbon Not with clash of arms, 
 Not 'midst war's alarms, 
 Thy splendid work was done, 
 Thy great victory won. 
 
 Unknown, thro' field and brake, 
 By calm or stormy lake, 
 Lured by swift passing wings — 
 Songs that a new world sings — 
 
 Thou didst untiring go 
 Led by thine ardor's glow, 
 Cheered by thy kindling thought 
 Beauty thy hand had wrought. 
 
 Leaving thy matchless page 
 Gift to a later age 
 That would revere thy name — 
 Build for thee, surely, fame. 
 
 O to have been with thee, 
 In that wild life and free. 
 While all thy birds passed by 
 Under the new world sky ! 
 
 O to have heard the song 
 Of that glad-hearted throng, 
 Ere yet the settlers came 
 Giving the woods to flame ! 
 
 78 
 
^ iSoofe of Querns 
 
 ^tttniion O to have with thee gone 
 (Continued) Up the white steps of Dawn ! 
 Or where the burning west 
 Crimsoned the wild drake's breast ! 
 
 Yet better than bays we bring 
 Are the woods whispering 
 When life and leaf are new 
 Under the tender blue ! 
 
 Master, awake ! for May 
 Comes on her rainbowed way — 
 Hear thou bird-song again 
 Sweeter than praise of men ! 
 
 79 
 
iBeneatfi Mint ^feies anlr ffifrag 
 
 ^crtoinff O, Serving Brothers, in the fight 
 
 %xat^tXfi The foe will often taunt you ! 
 
 But if your souls be strong and white 
 
 There shall no danger daunt you ! 
 A ring of fire your swords shall flame 
 Around your Leader's Cross and Name ! 
 
 Then ask not for a nobler thing 
 
 Than to be truly serving ; 
 To love that Spotless One, your King, 
 
 With love that knows no swerving, — 
 To strike like Galahad the pure, 
 To murmur not and still endure. 
 
 Behold the battlements aglow 
 
 Above the clouds that darkle ! 
 And round the lifted domes of snow 
 
 See fervent light out-sparkle ! 
 The Holy City ! God waits there 
 To give you rest and garments fair. 
 
 80 
 
it Mook of 43<ieitts 
 
 Winter There is a beauty in the Winter sky 
 Dapc That Summer knows not, a diviner glow, 
 A chaster coloring, and the hills of snow 
 Are nearer Heaven than the hills that lie 
 All indolent in bloom ; the winds that sigh 
 Thro' brakes of drifted leaves and murmur low 
 Their threnodies, a peace more perfect know 
 Than those that dally with the butterfly. 
 Great thoughts are born in many a leafless way. 
 And faith that fails not when the stars are hid ; 
 And courage steadfast as the rocks which break 
 The ocean's rage — and spirits such as they 
 Who built this land — earth's noblest pyramid. 
 Which God forbid the storms of Time shall shake. 
 
 8i 
 
JSeneatfj Blue ^feies antr (Krag 
 
 2rj)C With broken ranks and flags that fly no more 
 Eetreat Like joyous falcons, the torn cornstalks go 
 Into the valley, sullenly and slow : 
 Yet on the hilltop stands the last tall corps, 
 The valiant rearguard battle-stained and sore 
 For this defeat, braving the hosts of snow 
 And charging sleet, while shrilly trumpets blow, 
 And overhead rolls on the steady roar 
 Of the Wind's artillery. O Love ! O Peace ! 
 Blest be your coming to earth's battlefields 
 With seeds, that, springing, hide this wreek of war ! 
 The golden harvests and the fair increase, 
 And that good measure which contentment yields ; 
 Till only greed and wrong shall men abhor. 
 
 82 
 
 1 
 
m Book Oi ^OtVXQ 
 
 Slftct'- The burial was over, and the words, 
 toarU The blest, immortal words of Christ were said. 
 The neighbors had departed, he alone 
 Stood by the grave and watched the sunset flame, 
 And mused on life and death, and on the change 
 Now come to him, beholding her no more. 
 Close by his feet the violets bowed their heads 
 Like little children lisping evening prayers ; 
 The wind-flowers swung white censers, and a cloud, 
 Blown like a snow wreath o'er the deeps of blue, 
 Wore sudden glory and so passed away. 
 Ah, very oft he had come here with her 
 And watched the flowers and the gi-eening fields. 
 And dogwoods drifted white against the hills. 
 She had so loved the Spring, in simple faith 
 Accepting it as pledge of life to come ; 
 And ere she died was lifted up to see 
 Far thro' the open door the purple glow 
 Of redbuds waking at the forest's edge. 
 The bloom of nearer orchards, cherry, peach, 
 The flocking blackbirds and the April sky ; 
 The spicy-fragrant raindrops pattering loud 
 Upon the mossy roof, the Springtime sun 
 Flooding the trees with splendor, and she smiled, 
 And sinking on her pillow murmured oft 
 The lines of some loved anthem, and so slept. 
 O memory, memory, thro' what tender scenes 
 
 83 
 
3$eneat6 38Iue %km anlr ©rag 
 
 9[fter= Misty with tears he walked again with her ! 
 toarll Low-voiced was she, and quaint, dear accents gave 
 (Continued) An old-timc flavor to her homely speech ; 
 And all her hair was silvered, and her eyes 
 Held twinkling laughters in their deep blue depths 
 And largess of true tears for those who weep. 
 And oft she leaned upon him, saying : " Son 
 You are the staff of my old useless age 
 And God will bless you ! " 
 
 Homeward thro' the dusk 
 He, passing, treasured these sweet words of hers 
 And to his grief they were as precious balm. 
 So when he reached the creek where lightly spanned 
 The rustic bridge, a dear, familiar place. 
 There bubbled in his heart a song that flowed 
 To music of the ripples, thus it ran : 
 
 I follow on, I follow on. 
 
 The way T cannot see, 
 But all the day and all the night 
 
 Thou callest unto me. 
 And thro' the dusk, and thro' the light 
 
 I follow after thee. 
 
 I follow on, I follow on, 
 How loving are thy feet 
 That go before me in the way 
 
 84 
 
fl ^ook ot ^oemg 
 
 3tftcr= Unto that valley sweet — 
 
 toarJ That valley where the blessed stay 
 
 (Continued) And love IS all complete. 
 
 I follow on, I follow on, 
 
 I know that thou art near ; 
 My soul looks out upon thy soul 
 
 A vision sweet and clear — 
 About thy brow an aureole 
 
 My sainted mother, dear. 
 
 85 
 
Beneatl) Mnt %km antr (J&iag 
 
 21 I met my angel in a strange, wild place ; 
 JHectinff I shall not soon forget his steadfast eyes, 
 Before whose gaze no mantle is disguise. 
 That fixed on mine, and yet meseemed love's grace 
 He gently wore, nor came he to abase 
 My stricken soul, nor with a scourge chastise : 
 But looked as Christ on Peter, sorrowful-wise, 
 Until with tear-stained eyes I hid my face. 
 To feel, at last, his hand upon my head. 
 To hear his words of admonition grave 
 That gave me strength as when true prayer is said - 
 That buoyed me up, a strong compelling wave 
 Of sympathy, that whereat I was dead 
 I lived again thro' cheer and hope he gave. 
 
 86 
 
n Book ot ^<»ems 
 
 Delightful days are these when Autumn masks 
 
 In Summer's mantle and with sun-tipped wand 
 
 Waves off the jeweled daggers of the frost. 
 
 Now fi-om their setting of the lustiest green 
 
 Glow the flame flowers of geranium ; 
 
 The amorous cypress holding up his arms 
 
 Would clasp the stars, the wanton touch-me-nots, 
 
 Gay revelers in red and pink, and white, 
 
 Hobnob together, and a conscious rose 
 
 Blushes as if 'twere Springtime ; scarce a leaf 
 
 Falls withered from the maples, and the Wind 
 
 Oft fluttering down from some far height of snow 
 
 Fans with its fragrant wings the brow of Earth. 
 
 With patient love the Morning-Glory lifts 
 
 Her shrunken palms aloft in prayer for dew. 
 
 Long gossamers blow silvern in the sun. 
 
 Or link the sturdy corn that half is clad 
 
 In russet-gray and half in youthful green — 
 
 Far-off, a golden band, the woodland belts 
 
 The quiet pastures where the cattle browse ; 
 
 And yet beyond aie hills that purpling rise 
 
 In low, round billows broken, here and there. 
 
 By giant branches flung against the sky 
 
 In silhouette; and then the softer haze — 
 
 Where Earth and Heaven meet — that unknown land 
 
 The dwelling-place of mystery and dreams. 
 
 87 
 
iSeneatS Blue %km antr (JKrag 
 
 3t And it's hey and it's ho for the frost-white hills 
 iPlomtngf And a splendid star in the rose o' the dawn, 
 S>onff And a sense of brawn, and a thought that thrills. 
 And the song of a bird in the treetops heard — 
 And it's hey and it's ho for the frost- white hills ! 
 
 And it's hey and it's ho for the sunrise paths ! 
 When the light drips down in a golden shower ; 
 And a sense of power, and the dewdrop baths. 
 And the blood running free like the sap in a tree — 
 And it's hey and it's ho for the sunrise paths ! 
 
 And it's hey and it's ho for the upland way ! 
 Where white and cool are the wings o' the mist, 
 Where our lips are kissed by the maiden Day, 
 And life has a spring like a bow a- string, 
 Oh, it's hey and it's ho for the upland way. 
 
^ Book of 43oeitts 
 
 Cl)e Scene. — Moonrise in the garden of Yucay. 
 
 %XiVCi Oello discovered seated near a parterre wrought'in 
 
 ^au2()= silver and gold in imitation of grow^ing maize. 
 
 \ZX The plashing of a fountain is faintly heard. 
 
 Oello. 
 
 " How pleasant 'tis to feel upon my brow 
 The soothing touch of gentle guardian winds 
 That tiptoe thro' these quiet halls of Night. 
 How fragrant are their garments, and they sow 
 Bright seeds of pleasantness that spring in dreams, 
 And 'peace' they ever murmur — 'rest and 
 peace.' " 
 
 (Francisco steps noiselessly from the shadow 
 and kneels at her feet.) 
 
 Oello. 
 " Francisco I " 
 
 Francisco. 
 " Yes, dear love, fear not, 'tis I." 
 
 Oello. 
 
 " Why art thou come? An hundred jealous eyes 
 Watch here, and from these flowery walls may 
 
 spring 
 Swift, thirsting arrows winged with bitter hate ! " 
 
 89 
 
iSeneatI) Blue ^feies anJ) ®iag 
 
 Cl)c Francisco. 
 
 plica's 1 1 g^^j. ^j^g ^^.jgf j^^^j^. J xhou'lt not deny me that ? " 
 
 tf^ Oello. 
 
 (Continued) 
 
 " Ah, tempt me not with such a priceless houi-, 
 Most radiant jewel on the breast o£ Time ! 
 Lest, yielding, I should lose thee evermore ! " 
 
 Francisco. 
 
 *'One moment, then! See wrought upon this 
 
 scarf. 
 In i-ichest tracery of gold, a cross. 
 Thou dost remember, dear, that pleasant day 
 I lingered by thy side and thou did'st ask 
 The meaning of this symbol, and I told 
 Of my sweet Lord, Jesu, the only God. 
 This scarf I always wear, this symbol pressed 
 Close to my heart ; to-morrow night I'll send 
 To thee, with this, Huascar of thy race, 
 I saved his life at Cuzco, come with him. 
 jVnd then — dear heart — " 
 
 Oello. 
 '•^ I hear the war drums beat ! " 
 
 Francisco. 
 *' One kiss! " 
 
 90 
 
Uoofe of ^loems 
 
 €\)t Oello. 
 
 jr , " Francisco, O my love, farewell ! " 
 
 ter Scene. — Night in the palace of Yucay. 
 (Continued) Enter Oello with her father and his nobles. After 
 a short prelude a minstrel sings. 
 
 " In the thickest of the battle, 
 
 In the fiercest of the fight, 
 Where the lines are locked and writhing 
 
 And the whiiTing arrows smite, 
 Cheering on the hearts beneath it, 
 
 As it crests the battle's wave. 
 There is seen the rainbow banner 
 
 Of the bravest of the brave. 
 
 " Where the bucklers clash together. 
 
 And the battle-axes, red. 
 Rise and fall, and bloodier, faster, 
 
 Pile the awful heaps of dead. 
 Where the gushing tides of crimson 
 
 All the trampling sandals lave, 
 There outgleams the coraquenque 
 
 Of the bravest of the brave." 
 
 The Inca. 
 Thou'rt listless, Oello, a battle won 
 91 
 
JSeneat!) Blue ^feies anlr (ffirag 
 
 gl^jjj Should'st make thy step more buoyant, light thine 
 STnca'fl! eye 
 
 ^aufff)= With beams exultant, make thy cheek to glow, 
 (jj And thrill thy soul with songs of victory. 
 (Continued) Thou'rt pale ! thou'rt cold ! A daughter thou of 
 kings 
 And heard'st yon minstrel chant thy father's praise, 
 And hid'st thy face and sighed. It was not well ! " 
 
 Oello. 
 " O noble Inca — father — " 
 
 The Inca. 
 
 " Speak not now ! 
 Thy voice hath lost its music, it is faint. 
 Uncertain like a harp by novice touched. 
 Sit here and thou shalt hear me speak instead. 
 Perchance, to hear thy father tell the fight, 
 Thou'lt get more courage in that downcast eye. 
 Before the tassels of this morn shook down 
 Rich golden pollen on the silent hills, 
 Our bravest, stepping cougar-like, marched thro' 
 The city gate, and gained the wooded slope 
 Behind the Spanish camp — Each heart beat quick, 
 Each hand was clenched on battle-axe or bow, 
 Each nostril quivered and each eye was set 
 To look on death. There in the dew-dusk lay 
 
 9^ 
 
CIjC The hated foe — asleep save here and there 
 ^Tnca'fii A spectral picket glided back and forth. 
 ^att3;I)= Then shield to shield, a line of plumes that tossed 
 ter Like tall maize shaken by a sudden wind, 
 (Continued) We rushed upon them beating them to earth. 
 
 Some shrieking fled, some snatched their arms and 
 
 fought 
 As fights the Oscelot, hedged round with spears. 
 One warrior among them, gleaming bright 
 In burnished metal silver-like and fair. 
 O'er threw five nobles, shouting his war-cry. 
 Then, coming in the press, I dashed my shield 
 Upon his head and struck him with my axe. 
 He, reeling, fell, and fallen rose no more. 
 This fabric, richer than Vicuna gives. 
 He wore upon his breast — See Oello ! " 
 
 (He shows Francisco's Scarf.) 
 
 "Lift up thine eyes, see here this figure wrought 
 In gold upon — Why thou art trembling — What ! 
 Speak to me my daughter ! " 
 
 (To attendants.) " There, tenderly. 
 Let her be carried hence, strange humor this, 
 1 will know more of it." 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 93 
 
JSeneatI) 33Iue ^feies antr iffirag 
 
 3lt Here dwelleth peace and quiet such as lies 
 Wnsl)- About the steps of Dusk when far afield, 
 tlig:ton'g And he sleeps well for whom the cannon pealed, 
 (Bxa!tit And bugles blew their wild, war melodies. 
 Now glossy tendrils of the ivy rise 
 To clasp his name and wreathe his honored shield, 
 The pilgrim seasons here their tribute yield ; 
 And stars keep watch with bright unsleeping eyes ; 
 And one white shaft, as stainless as his name 
 We hold the first, bears witness with this spot, 
 That they who met the battle's shock and flame 
 For truth and country shall not be forgot. 
 Sweet be their rest and ever pure their fame. 
 And theirs the glory of the heroes' lot. 
 
 <H 
 
^ Book of i^ocms 
 
 Sunset Marvelous color ! violet and gold, 
 on tilt Rare rose, pale emerald, and tranquil blue, 
 Hiber Long radiate streamers of a fiery hue, 
 
 A wealth of Argonaut fleeces fold on fold, 
 
 All mirrored by the river and far rolled, 
 
 In softer splendor than the sky e'er knew, 
 
 Against the fringing willaws that imbrue 
 
 Their blossomy branches in the ripples cold. 
 
 Our oars drop jewels, and our widening wake 
 
 Flecked with bright foam, melts, purpling, into rest. 
 
 The swift-winged kildees silvery circles make 
 
 Against this old, new glory of the West. 
 
 Now dreams hold tryst, and Dusk's handmaidens shake 
 
 Fragrance and dewdrops down on Night's warm breast. 
 
 95 
 
33meat8 Mxit %km antr (ffifrag 
 
 Cl^e It lies beyond and ever yet beyond ! 
 5Sliat= The stars are but bright milestones on the way ; 
 tainable The patient climbing feet of eons gray, 
 
 That reach it not, grow weary and despond ; 
 
 Yet doth it draw us with its mystic bond 
 
 Through life, through death, and we its will obey. 
 
 And, gazing thitherward, our souls for aye 
 
 Pass up and onward from old lessons conned. 
 
 Thus is our happiness in endless quest. 
 
 Our Heaven in striving for some higher sooth, 
 
 In going on our everlasting rest 
 
 And all the vigor of immortal youth 
 
 That follows alway with unflagging zest 
 
 The strong, white pinions of the angel Truth. 
 
a ^ook of ^luems 
 
 Cbc Here in the quiet hills beside the way 
 H^Cfi;ertc5 That dips into the valley, lone it stands ; 
 
 ^Ott£ie It's doors gape wide, and from their gloom and gray 
 The beckoning of unseen hands. 
 
 Tall weeds surround it ashy-crowned and still. 
 And from a walnut near the rain-crow calls. 
 
 And one dai-k shadow, sinuous and chill, 
 Across the sagging gable crawls. 
 
 The way is o'ergrown where many feet 
 
 Passed up and down ; where oft I climbed to her 
 
 When day had fallen and the fields were sweet, 
 Dewy sweet in the twilight's blur. 
 
 Now — woods with buds will brighten, and the leaves 
 Drift down in shining showers far and near, 
 
 And afterward a wandering voice which grieves 
 The passing glory of the year. 
 
 But nevermore along the hillside path 
 
 To greet me coming shall I see her face ; 
 
 And I am left with but love's aftermath, 
 A memory of tender grace. 
 
 97 
 
^mtafl) ^hu %ltm antr ®rag 
 
 St ^tti Ah, oftentimes I see her kneeling there 
 Before the Saviour, and a perfume sweet 
 Diffuses from the ointment on His feet 
 That she is gently wiping with her hair, 
 And to my soul no vision is more fair ; 
 Prophetic love that hears the hammers beat 
 On cruel nails, and sees the winding sheet, 
 And thus the Lord for burial would prepare. 
 Oh, Mary, thou hast given the world a deed 
 More precious than thy spikenard, keeping still 
 Its holy beauty in these far-off years ! 
 And burdened hearts, and weary feet that bleed 
 Bless thy soft touch. Love's fragrance that doth fill 
 The world's great room, the sympathy of thy tears. 
 
 98 
 
n Book of ^oems 
 
 91 How fair the moon is this cahn Summer night, 
 Summer Like some young Qiieen borne in a stately barge 
 jl^tj;|)t Upon a clear, deep lake with silvery marge 
 And fairy, floating islands snowy white 
 Touched with faint tints of iridescent light. 
 Meseems she sleeps, and each with pearly targe 
 Her maidens hold her loveliness in charge 
 That dreams may woo her into realms more bright. 
 Come all ye spirits of the dusk and dew, 
 Of leaves, of stars, of winds that whisper low ; 
 With sweet influences her sleep imbue 
 Till in love's ecstacy her pulses glow. 
 Soft, soft she passes out into the blue, 
 And all the night doth richer beauty know. 
 
 99 
 
33eneatlj Blue ^km antr ®frag 
 
 (?5ootl I clasp your hands, good brother trees, 
 ^rotjjer Your welcome is full sweet ; 
 CrccB I'm weary of the ways of men, 
 I rest me at your feet. 
 
 They call you cold, they call you dumb, 
 
 But they — they cannot know 
 The speech we have, the golden speech 
 
 That sets our hearts aglow. 
 
 Men have their little plans and fight. 
 
 And bicker over God, 
 You know where'er a flower blooms 
 
 That way the Master trod. 
 
Siflinitp A soul that strayed in the paths of Heaven, 
 A seraph soul on his lonely way, 
 Chanting his song in the purple even — 
 
 (A sad, sweet lay) 
 Sang : " Let me die for I am aweary, 
 Let me darkling fall for my life is dreary." 
 
 Then up from the twilight world at his feet. 
 Up from the purple deeps of Even, 
 
 There came a voice, ah, tenderly sweet. 
 Into his Heaven : 
 
 " Live for me, love, or my life is dreary. 
 
 Live for me, love, or my way is aweary." 
 
 And flower-like, in a dewy vale. 
 
 All beautiful with love's own grace, 
 
 Thro' bright'ning mists, and lily pale 
 He saw her face. 
 
 " O, love, without thee my life is aweary. 
 
 And the paths of God's Heaven are darkly dreary ! 
 
 And nightly he like a star in Heaven, 
 
 All radiant with thoughts of her. 
 
 Looks down thro' the purple deep of Even 
 Her worshiper. 
 
 " Oh, love, without thee my life is awear}-. 
 
 Oh, love, without thee my Heaven is dreary." 
 
Beitcatfj Blue ^feles antr ffi^rag 
 
 Cpc The wind and the leaves all day, all day, 
 WirCa The wind and the restless leaves, 
 anH tjje Have Iain asleep in a valley deep, 
 leabeg In a valley deep where a spirit grieves 
 In a v^^ood that is old and gray. 
 
 And bright-browned dreams all day, all day. 
 
 Have walked in that valley deep — 
 In the winding miles of the dim-lit aisles, 
 
 In the dim-lit aisles where abideth sleep. 
 In the wood that is old and gray. 
 
 And the wind is a woodman bold and gay 
 And the leaves are his tawny pack ; 
 
 Hello and hark ! when the wood is dark. 
 
 When the wood is dark and the storm clouds black 
 
 With a rush they are off and away. 
 
 Yet often they frolic at play, at play, 
 
 In that moss-loving valley deep — 
 When their hearts are light, and the moon all in white, 
 
 The moon all in white on a cloud-blown steep 
 Like a dream-loving maid doth stray. 
 
 And oft in the fragrant calm all day 
 
 The wind and the restless leaves 
 Lie fast asleep, in that valley deep, 
 
 In that valley deep where a shadow weaves 
 Slumber robes cool and gray. 
 
CI)C And the bright-browed leaves all day, all day, 
 Wixili Walk then in that valley deep, 
 
 atlK ti)t In the winding miles of the dim-lit aisles, 
 Icabefi In the dim-lit aisles where abideth sleep 
 
 (Continued) jj^ tj^g ^ood that IS old and gray. 
 
 103 
 
Mmteiti) Blue ^hm anlr (JKrag 
 
 31 little How fair it is, this little lake of mine, 
 
 Lake This little mirror in God's pleasant room — 
 
 Set round with willows, where primroses bloom 
 In whose still depths the white clouds softly shine. 
 
 The lilac sky of sunset and the glow 
 
 Of cumulus peaks here underneath the green 
 That wavers downward, in new beauty seen 
 
 Melt into twilight, and the stars below 
 
 Seem like great pearls in purple casket set. 
 Or like white cressets in a vale of dreams 
 That beckon ever with their misty gleams 
 
 Down into silence where our hearts forget. 
 
 Here sings the yellow-throat: "Follow me! follow 
 me," sings 
 
 From leafy coverts dewy cool and still. 
 
 The cardinal flashes by — and halcyon shrill 
 Touches the water into widening rings. 
 
 A brook comes hither, wandering down the glade, 
 A troubadour of laughter making gay 
 The lusty maples, singing all the way. 
 
 And here down-flashing in a bright cascade. 
 
 104 
 
a iSoofe of iloents 
 
 SI Little Here morning pauses glancing down to see 
 JLatlC Her own fair image in this placid deep. 
 
 (Continued) Here silent mists their long night-watches keep 
 
 Weaving wide silver nets of witchery. 
 
 It is a place to linger in to hear 
 
 The message of the wind so gently told 
 Beneath thick branches, and communion hold 
 
 With Beauty shepherd of each day and year. 
 
 105 
 
Mtmati) Mint ^km antr (ffiiag 
 
 CJ)C The sigh of the wind in the trees, 
 (0rat)e in The glory of light in the air, 
 tbc A day that is quiet and fair — 
 
 JForeSt These are above thee, these 
 
 With the spirit of peace are here 
 
 Over thy nameless sod. 
 
 Here bends the golden -rod. 
 The woodpecker taps his cheer. 
 
 Here at the foot of an oak 
 Silently taking thy rest. 
 Forgotten the hand that was pressed 
 
 Forgotten the voice that spoke. 
 
 Cheerily the cricket sings, 
 
 Sweet is the touch of the Fall, 
 Joyous the Flicker's call, 
 
 Happy the passing wings. 
 
 If they could greet thee again 
 
 Would'st thou awake and be glad. 
 After the day thou hast had 
 
 Walking the ways of men ? 
 
 Is all of light and of mirth 
 
 Sweet as this lying down? 
 
 Beauty, or wealth, or renown 
 Good as this mingling with earth ? 
 
 1 06 
 
a Booh oC iloents 
 
 (Zri)C Softly the sunlight streams 
 
 tSralJC in Out from the sundown land, 
 
 tl)C Gently an unseen hand 
 
 jForcdt Draws me to night and to dreams. 
 
 (Continued) 
 
 Thee — has it not drawn thee 
 On to the ultimate dawn? 
 Thou into shadow gone 
 
 Dost thou not trul}^ see? 
 
 Softly the sunlight dies 
 In the far sundown land, 
 Gently an unseen hand 
 
 Draws me and I arise. 
 
 Cheerily the cricket sings 
 
 Sweet is the touch of the Fall, 
 Joyous the Flicker's call, 
 
 Trustful the passing wings. 
 
 107 
 
Beneati) Blue ^feies anlr ffifiag 
 
 3^11 tl)e Clouds and a misty day, 
 9lftcr= Now, with the passing sun 
 ffloto Amber and rose for the gray. 
 When day is done. 
 
 Here on the margin of night. 
 
 Darkness lying before, 
 Peace, and the beauty of light 
 
 When day is o'er. 
 
 io8